


A Pianist's Fingers and a Poet's Pen

by MostlyxInfinite



Series: Writing Prompt Challenge Thing [5]
Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: 30-Day Flash Fiction Challenge, Alternative Universe - Victorian England, F/M, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Attraction, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sunggyu is a Pianist, Woohyun is Poet, cause its Victorian England, honestly woohyun just wants to press sunggyu into a mattress and fuck him hard, what
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 10:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19227748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostlyxInfinite/pseuds/MostlyxInfinite
Summary: Day Five: Victorian Era---Woohyun huffs with a strained smile on his face. “I don’t think anyone of my…tastesis willing to make themselves known at the moment. Not so soon after Wilde’s trail.”





	A Pianist's Fingers and a Poet's Pen

**Author's Note:**

> fuck trying to describe what they're wearing-
> 
>  **[Woohyun is wearing his Meifisto outfit](https://mobile.twitter.com/LoveForMiracle_/status/1139931701293899777?s=19)** and **[Sunggyu is in his Amadeus outfit](https://twitter.com/firstandlastkyu/status/979031993496231936)** but like with it buttoned up cause Sunggyu pure (i snoRTED)
> 
> Anyway um Ive written their relationship as more of an infatuation instead of love because I feel back in the 19th century they wouldnt really be looking for that as much as just sex. Yeah and Oscar Wilde is mentioned a bit because kinda makes more sense idk I kinda just wanted to add him
> 
> I also only took the Victorian Era part of the prompt because it would be weird making it like how my parents met and yeah

The pub was hustling with life as it was the eve of 1896, loud music and off tune drunken singing, contiuneous drinking of beer and other alcoholic beverages. Men chatting up women in their fancy high waisted pants and women responding enthusiastically in their beautifully layered circle skirt dresses and puffed sleeves.

Woohyun wishes he could be one of those men, it wasn’t like women weren’t coming up to him and whispering promises to please him later – no, that was a frequent occurrence. Woohyun just wasn’t interested, not when he had his eyes on the brunette gentleman at the bar talking with one of his associate’s. By far was this man the most handsome specimen he has ever seen. Round face, plush lips, long and delicate fingers, pianist’s fingers. Fingers that hadn’t faced a day of hard labour in their life. Fingers that Woohyun would love to have unfasten the buttons of the trousers he’s wearing.

“Your staring is obvious.”

“Hmm?” Woohyun hums, not taking his eyes off the Pianist he so badly wants to make a mess of. He smirks from behind his glass when brown eyes connect with his; he swallows the remainder of the hard liquor in a long gulp, purposely making sure the man watching him can see his Adam’s apple move with the liquid.

“You’re seducing him from across the room when you could just go up to him and do it. He obviously wouldn’t be against the idea.” Sungyeol tries to reason with the poet but well, Woohyun isn’t easily swayed.

Woohyun places the glass back down on the white napkin while reaching into his waistcoat pocket for a crown. “I’m going to hang up my hat for the night.” the Poet makes eye contact with the barman and nods as he puts the silver coin inside his glass, the barman acknowledges Woohyun’s payment and waves him off, allowing him to go.

Sungyeol gapes at his friend, “Hang your hat up my arse. I’m not letting you leave until you speak to him once. You’ve been chasing each other’s tails for months, _years_. Man up and talk to him.”

He ignores his friend and places his top hat on his head. “Good night. Sungyeol.” Despite saying the words to Sungyeol, Woohyun pinches the brim of his hat and tilts it towards the pianist in goodbye from across the crowded room. He ignores the funny look he revieces in return and makes his way through the drunken crowd, he nods politely at the woman who runs her hand up and down his chest.

She leans up and whispers in his while her hand travels lower and lower. “Hey handsome, want to escort me home?” the implications behind her words are obvious and the hand now resting on his lower stomach is making him uncomfortable and sick, the fingers now toying with his trouser buttons – he’d go with her, really but nothing would happen, he’s tried before and Woohyun hates that his body doesn’t work how normal men’s do.

He gently removes her hand from his body. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to find someone else to walk you home.” He smiles politely at her even though she huffs and storms off to find someone else that will satisfy her.

“Woohyun!” a voice calls out behind him.

The poet scoffs, “God.” He quickens his pace and makes it outside into the cool night air. The streetlights barely casting any light of the cobblestone streets. He shoves his hands into his pockets and begins to make the long journey back to his small terrace house.

The pub door behind him opens, releasing a small amount of music before slamming shut and muffling the partying inside. “You Idiot!” Sungyeol’s hand wraps around Woohyun’s bicep, stopping him from taking another step. “Go and bloody well talk to him! He looked so disheartened when you left!” he whispers harshly at the poet, painfully aware of the prostitute eyeing them from the street corner – most likely trying to ease drop on their conversation.

Woohyun huffs with a strained smile on his face. “I don’t think anyone of my… _tastes_ is willing to make themselves known at the moment. Not so soon after Wilde’s trail.”

“Oh come on Woohyun, everyone’s too drunk to notice you slip away with him. You’ve fancied him since Myungsoo took you to one of his recitals back in ‘88.” Sungyeol argues back, “Wilde’s trail has nothing to do with you. What? You met the man once in a gay bar in 1890. You were never pictured with him therefor; no one is paying any attention to you.” The tailor makes it sound so simple when he really has no idea.

He can’t believe what he’s hearing. “How do you know that? As far as I’m concerned every printer that has ever published me is currently scanning all of my work for any indication I’m a homosexual.” Woohyun shoots back and pulls his arm from Sungyeol’s grip.

“They’re daft, they won’t pick up on your subtly added desire to press Sunggyu into a mattress, or how much you fancy him; ‘ _fingers so dainty, so long, so strong, make the most beautiful music_ ’. No one knows you’re talking about a man.”

“Except every gay man to have ever read my poems. Hell the first thing Wilde said after he realised who I was, was ‘who’s the man that acts as your muse’. There is nothing heterosexual about my poetry.” Woohyun claims, he’s ready to just go home, write and then pass the hell out.

“Ah ah ah, the thing that’s wrong with that statement is Wilde is also a poet, he’d know even if he wasn’t gay.” Sungyeol tries to reason but just ends up digging himself an even bigger hole.

“Wow thanks for that vote of confidence; I’m just going to go pull the last poem I sent to be printed before its actually in ink.” He gestures in the general direction of the newspaper he’s regularly featured in.

“That’s not- Woohyun, you know that isn’t what I meant.” The tailor’s voice is defeated – why won’t Woohyun just listen to him.

“Sungyeol, I’m going to go home and you’re going to go back inside to find a nice girl to spend the night with.” Woohyun tilts the brim on his hat one more time. “Good night.” Ending the conversation fully, the poet finally is able to go home.

 

  
A harsh ringing sound interrupts Woohyun mid word and he scratches a hole through his paper with the sharp tip of his fountain pen. He leans back in his chair with an annoyed sigh, throwing the pen across his desk paying no mind to the ink splattering across the wood. He resists the urge to scrap his current piece and finally pays attention to that box on his wall ringing.

“Who in their right minds would call this late?” he hisses while trudging over to the telephone, he lifts the receiver off the hook and the blasted thing stops its racket. “Hello, this is Woohyun Nam speaking.” He says politely, well as politely as he can through gritted teeth.

_“Did you really think I’d just let you leave after that stunt you pulled.”_

“Fuck.” Woohyun nearly drops the receiver, definitely not expecting the Pianist of his dreams, and wet dreams, to speak.

_“You sure do have a way with words, no wonder you’re a poet.”_

Shit. Woohyun leans his back up against the wall, scared his legs will give out underneath him. “Sunggyu, didn’t think I’d be hearing from you.”

_“Cut the bullshit, I’m home as we speak and rather lonely… I was wondering, do you mind coming to keep me company?”_

Woohyun tires to keep composed but the meaning behind his words is so blatent and god he can’t say no. “You’re still living in the building off Brunswick?”

_“4b. I’ll expect you before 1896 greets us.”_

“I guarantee it.”

The pianist hangs up his receiver and the call is disconnected. Woohyun pulls his coat over his shoulders and makes the first of turns out to be many journeys to that little apartment. 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay this is late, I got distracted by Woohyun and his cats... yeah thats a reasonable reason
> 
> WOOHYUNS CATSSSSSSS AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
> 
> CATSSSS
> 
> CATS
> 
> CAT ONE
> 
> CAT TWO
> 
> HEART CAT
> 
> WOOHYUN HAS MY WHOLE SOUL AND HEART
> 
> Okay I'll stop now


End file.
